


Garthe Returns

by FalCatrecon



Category: Knight Rider (1982)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:33:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29006106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalCatrecon/pseuds/FalCatrecon
Summary: Just a little more money was all he needed and it could get him a ticket out of here and some cushion to get food and a hotel in a bigger city, maybe see if he couldn’t find a way to look for missing persons himself. He knew logically he could probably just walk into a police station and point to himself, asking if he was missing, but something deep inside told him that law enforcement of any kind were to be avoided. He’d learned to listen to that quiet voice, it’s what kept him out of trouble and had him win those fights.“...Garthe?” The voice held shock and surprise, and for a moment he ignored the man in front of him, trying to decide if the fish was salvageable. Likely he had been talking to someone else, but the guy stepped a little closer, almost cautiously, his voice sharp this time. “Garthe.”
Relationships: Garthe Knight & KARR, Michael Knight & KITT
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

The first cut was easy, knife slicing simply through flesh. This haul wasn’t his biggest but he felt he was getting better at it. He still didn’t know quite what he had done before he’d been fished up from the ocean himself, but he had accepted the kindness of the man who had rescued him. When he was found he had nothing on him, save his clothes, and they had seemed of a better cut than most. His rescuer had tried to look out for missing persons because surely someone in clothes like his would be missed, but nothing had come over the wire. He was beginning to doubt the man was even trying anymore as it had been a couple of years and he had begun to learn how to fish properly, making him more of an asset to keep. 

His next cut was messier, his frustration bleeding through. He looked down at the mangled fish and not for the first time wished he could remember _anything_. He’d swear there were flashes sometimes in dreams, but they were so ephemeral and gone as soon as he woke, only frustrating him all the more. He hated being so helpless, but without a real name or even money to get anywhere, leaving was fruitless. The most he knew was that he could hold his own in a fight. He’d been using that to his advantage in a fighting ring he had stumbled upon after a bar fight he had won. It had started as easy money, his thinner frame getting the odds against him, but now the locals knew him and adjusted the betting accordingly. He still won most of his fights, what little he did.

Just a little more money was all he needed and it could get him a ticket out of here and some cushion to get food and a hotel in a bigger city, maybe see if he couldn’t find a way to look for missing persons himself. He knew logically he could probably just walk into a police station and point to himself, asking if he was missing, but something deep inside told him that law enforcement of any kind were to be avoided. He’d learned to listen to that quiet voice, it’s what kept him out of trouble and had him win those fights.

“...Garthe?” The voice held shock and surprise, and for a moment he ignored the man in front of him, trying to decide if the fish was salvageable. Likely he had been talking to someone else, but the guy stepped a little closer, almost cautiously, his voice sharp this time. “Garthe.”

Those tones he knew from somewhere, his eyes quickly raising to meet matching blue. He stared a long moment, not sure what to do with the mirror image in front of him but that small voice egged him on to fight or run. While he normally listened it was painfully obvious this man would know who he was. “My name is Carlos.” He kept hold of his knife, shifting it into a more defensive hold. “Who are you?”

A wash of confusion momentarily erased the serious look in the man’s face. “You…” He frowned, his eyes searching for something and not seeming to find it. “Michael. Michael Knight.”

Carlos’ eye twitched at that name. He _knew_ it and hated it, but he didn’t know why. He stabbed the knife into the chopping block in frustration, eyes narrowing at the twin across from him. “That’s your name, sure, but _who_ are you.”

Michael jumped at the sudden stabbing movement, but settled back into what Carlos now recognized as a coiled readiness, even if he looked relaxed. “You know who I am.”

Pulling off his gloves, Carlos threw them harshly to the counter. “No I do _not_.” He pointed roughly out to sea, growling out his words. “I’ve been trapped here for two years with no knowledge of who I am or where I came from, and the first person to find me is _you_.” He threw his hands up in frustration. “Whoever you are!”

Michael’s hands came up placatingly, but Carlos could see the calculation still in his movement. “Hey steady there. I can’t explain all of it now, but I can at least tell you your name.”

Carlos gestured impatiently for him to continue.

“Garthe Knight.” Michael’s arms dropped to his sides with a shrug. “The rest is... complicated.”

Unfortunately that name rang true to him somewhere, even though at this point he wanted no similarity to the man in front of him. That niggling bit of memory at least said they were not related, no matter they were twins with the same last name. Not that it made sense. “Why has no one looked for me?”

“We thought you were dead.” Michael looked back up the dock towards land as if he was visually checking with someone, though only a lone black car sat there. He looked torn about something. “I… I can’t just leave you here, but if you really don’t remember anything…” He huffed a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

Garthe opened his mouth to give another sharp retort when a voice came from Michael’s watch. “It would be best if Devon met him, and back at FLAG headquarters he would be safe for the time being.”

Another wave of negative emotions washed over him at the voice and unfamiliar names. He didn’t recognize a single one but they all sounded terrible. At the same time he knew they were the key to his missing past. He weighed his options before nodding to himself. Even if he evaded Michael here he was bound to come across them again as he searched for his missing life, and something told him that he may be able to escape them later if he needed to. Bleeding hearts and all. He pointed at the watch. “I don’t feel like I trust you, but you hold my answers.” The apron joined the gloves and he stepped around the counter. “Let’s go.”

Michael quickly followed as Garthe walked down the dock towards the black car. It wasn’t at all what anyone in the town would have so he was certain it was Michael’s. He stopped dead once he caught proper sight, the red sweep of light entrancing him. He shook his head, rubbing at his temples. Something told him that was the wrong color and he wasn’t sure why.

A hand on his shoulder broke his concentration, pulling him back to the present. “Hey man, you okay?”

He shrugged him off and headed to the passenger door. “Fine.” The fanciful inside didn’t faze him, something else seemingly familiar. He felt that maybe he could drive this, even with the dash the way it was. His eyes drifted to the small box over the steering yoke as yellow came to mind.

“Hey buddy, set a course for home would you?” Michael settled into the driver’s seat with a soft pat to the dash.

“Yes Michael.” The box lit up at the words, the light bouncing in time.

Garthe frowned at the red, but let it pass without comment. “Who are you?”

“Knight Industries Two Thousand. Or KITT for short.” The voice was much more clipped addressing him, and he could say the feeling was mutual. It softened slightly when addressing Michael next. “His telemetry readings show he is not lying. I believe he has actually lost his memory. Falling off a cliff likely caused a brain injury, if the near drowning and oxygen starvation did not do it.”

Garthe easily found the seat lever, dropping the seat into a laying position. He had no clue how long the drive would be, but if he could at least feign sleep he could avoid any undue questions. From the sound of it he would have plenty of time to ask questions and be pestered with just as many back once they arrived at FLAG. Whatever that was. He felt like he should care enough to tell someone he was leaving, but there was literally nothing for him in this tiny ocean town. The only way was forward.


	2. Chapter 2

Garthe was almost grateful for KITT’s announcement that they had arrived. Those two were annoying to listen to prattle on at each other, and for several hours at that.

His slight cheer at being able to leave KITT was immediately tempered by the sight of the building. Near every fiber of his being hated this place, but logically he knew his answers lay inside. Michael walked past him to the door as he stood and stared.

He looked back towards KITT and past him to the gate of the grounds. He didn’t feel quite the same loathing to the yard at least, but it left him frustrated. All he had were these vague unfounded feelings and not a single concrete fact. He had never seen this place before, but the _familiarity_ was just on the edge of his mind. He rubbed at his temples. It was starting to make his head hurt.

” _Carlos_.”

The name snapped him out of his reverie. He met Michael’s eyes, realizing the man had been calling his name, Garthe’s name, a few times already. There was an odd understanding look on his face that bothered him. “What.”

Michael shook his head in sympathy. “Didn’t take a hit quite as bad as yours, but I did lose some of my memory once.” He looked past Garthe to KITT. “How about until you remember better I just call you Carlos? Would that be easier?”

His eyes narrowed, searching Michael’s for duplicity but couldn’t find it. “...Perhaps.” At the thought of being someone he knew helped him lose some of his anxiety just a little bit. Garthe was a complete mystery to him, and while Carlos wasn’t his favorite person he was at least familiar. He gestured towards the building, still not quite stepping forward. “So this is FLAG?”

“Yup.” Michael waited patiently. Carlos felt a need to test the man and let him wait, but it wouldn’t be productive. He took a deep breath and strode forward, heading inside. Michael followed close behind, stepping around him as his walk slowed. He didn’t actually know the layout. Even if it felt familiar there was no memory to access. Michael patted his shoulder as he passed, pointing towards the stairwell. “This way.”

\------

The walk was short but headache-inducing. Carlos imagined he would eventually get used to it, but the niggling deja vu feeling was grating. Michael entered the office first, the older gentleman greeting him with a smile before he nearly climbed out of his seat at the sight of ‘Garthe’. “ _You-_ ” He quickly gathered himself again and straightened his suit. His attention shifted back to Michael. “What is the meaning of this?”

Michael’s grin was teasing. It looked like they hadn’t given the man warning of his arrival. He couldn’t help a slight grin at that himself. A touch cruel but they obviously knew each other well enough. He regarded the older gentleman as Michael gave the quick rundown of finding him in that town. Devon… He didn’t hate the man in quite the kneejerk way he did Michael, which he supposed was a positive at this point. 

Devon turned to Carlos with a curious look. “You truly can not remember yourself as Garthe?”

“No.” Carlos shook his head. “I’m starting to feel if I did, I wouldn’t be here.”

A look of thoughtful surprise crossed Devon’s face. “I suppose you’re right.” The last bit of serious fear fell away and Devon gave him a soft smile. “Perhaps for the best, at least for now. I understand you wish to remember, but please do not think ill of me for hoping it is a slow process.” Devon grimaced slightly at that. “Sorry.”

Michael laughed and smacked Carlos’s shoulder, earning a glare. “I’ll keep him out of trouble. Hey, he still have a room or did you finally dismantle that shrine of Wilton’s?”

“It may need some dusting, but we had no need for another room so it was left alone.” Devon waved them away, already beginning to inspect the paperwork on his desk. “Monitor him closely.” He felt like he should be insulted, but it was only practical. He had to admire that much. 

Michael headed down the hallway leading into what was more obviously a living area rather than offices. He stopped at a particular door, though pointed further down the way. “There’s a sort of community living space and kitchen over there.” He tapped the door. “This is your room. Well, Garthe’s room anyway.”

Carlos reached out and opened the door. He cautiously stepped inside, surveying the space. This room obviously belonged to someone long since moved out. It wasn’t familiar in the least. “This… even if I could remember I don’t think this has been _mine_ in a long time.” He looked back to Michael. “Do I have to stay in here?”

There was that understanding smile that Carlos wished was actually condescending. It would give reason to why he disliked the man. Michael shook his head and pointed to the room next door. “That’s an open guest room. It’d probably be more comfortable for you.”

Michael started to step away, but Garthe grabbed his arm sharply. “Why are you being so nice? It’s obvious I’ve done something to you, to this organization.”

That somehow just earned him a smile. “Because that’s something Garthe did. It’s kind of…” Michael crossed his arms in consideration. “It would be like expecting my teenage self to know the Vietnam War or how to even shoot a gun. I don’t expect _Carlos_ to relish or even remember crushing KITT and I with a semi and leaving us for dead in the desert.”

The words were so simply laid out, but Carlos had to take a moment to process what was said. “What.” He shook his head, letting go of Michael’s arm. A flash of a massive grey semi-truck, the feeling of glee at the way it easily drove even across sand. Perhaps it had been something he did, and he didn’t feel necessarily sorry for it either. “...Maybe you should.”

Michael frowned at that. “Look. Considering how long it took me to remember things, I’m pretty sure even if you have bits and pieces they don’t all make sense. Either way you’re stuck here until we trust you or you remember enough, whichever comes first.”

Carlos nodded slowly, following Michael out of the room and towards the guest room. “One last thing. Is there someone else like KITT?”

A quick look of surprise and consternation crossed Michael’s face before he schooled it into a teasing grin. “There’s no one quite like KITT.” Carlos frowned at that. It was obvious the other man was lying, but he didn’t have a clue as to why. 

He let it go, turning to enter the guest room and ignoring Michael. This room felt less alien to him, likely because it was obviously meant for guests. He almost shut the door before Michael caught it. “I’ll get you a change of clothes. My stuff should fit you.” He gave him an appraising look, which made Carlos slightly uncomfortable. “Yeah, I think I got something that would work. You relax, get used to the place.” Michael waved and headed down the hall a couple more doors. Carlos made note of the door he entered before properly shutting the guest room door. He still was not sure what he had gotten himself into, but there was no doubt this had been home at some stage in his life.


End file.
